Ohh, my. Thanks for all of the reviews! Your support makes me want to write more more more.
If you've got nothing to do, check out my new story, "Lifeline" AND tell me what you think!
Btw, if you like DracoxOC, take a look here:
.net/s/7117299/1/Hear_Me_Now by WatchThisShit
it's got a promising start!
So here we go.
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Ariadne's dress fell to pieces at her feet. The white lace and gorgeous satin were destroyed—along with her undergarments. She screamed and quickly tried to mend the clothes, and once she realized this was futile, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself. She sprinted, naked but invisible, the entire way to the dungeons. The blonde put on a pair of normal robes and fresh, un-annihilated underwear and slumped into an armchair. No one was in the common room.
Outside of the portrait hole, Draco and Aaron were in a raging fit.
"You git! You ripped all her clothes off! What are you, some kind of pervert?" Draco growled. The duel had been split up by Professor Snape, who banned the two Seventh Years from the last hour of the ball. Aaron, in anger, followed Draco to the dungeons.
"Will you just go back to your tower, you mangy bird?" Draco snarled. Aaron shrugged and said he needed to speak to Ariadne.
"You can talk to her later, I for one need to go to bed and try not to dream about the disgusting display of dancing you and Nocturne partook in. Took me three tries to swallow the bile that rose in my throat." his long white fingers grazed his neck for emphasis. Aaron rolled his eyes again and shoved Draco aside once he had opened the portrait hole.
"Hey, asshole! That's my common room entrance!" the blond whined.
"Not anymore, it isn't." Aaron walked straight to Ariadne, who was petting a small white cat in her lap. When she caught his gaze, he saw her makeup had run and that her eyes were red and puffy. The cat hissed and ran away to the dormitory once Aaron approached.
"Ariadne, have you been crying? I didn't mean to hit you with my spells. I promise I wasn't trying to strip you." Aaron sat on the arm of the chair and hooked some of her long hair behind her ear. She turned away at his touch. He sighed and whispered, "I didn't mean to ruin your pretty dress or your night. Will you forgive me?" Ariadne shrugged and pushed his hand away.
"Leave me alone, please. I just want to be left alone." her tiny voice broke on the last syllable. Aaron respected his date's wishes and left the common room with a heavy heart. Draco sat opposite of Ariadne, watching the whole exchange unfold. The contours of his face were illuminated by the only light source the room: the fireplace. Its orange glow cancelled out the cold look on the boy's face.
"Why did you have to get in a bloody duel, you prat?" Ariadne snapped. With the sleeve of her robe she smudged the black makeup from her wet eyes. A single tear she missed rolled into her mouth and the salt was bitter to the tongue. "You couldn't just let me be for a single night? What does it matter if I date other people? Why does it matter so, so much that you'd have to ruin my happiness?" she demanded. Draco, who always had a comeback or something to say, found that his lips would not form words. There really wasn't a rational answer to any of her inquiries.
"You're my rival, Nocturne. I didn't like the way he was touching you was all." Draco's stomach twisted, he didn't enjoy calling Ariadne his rival. Or lying to her, for that matter.
"Rival?" Another twist of the stomach—Draco knew his lie was obvious. It wasn't fair that she could smell a lie a mile away. "Is that how you see me? Draco, you and I have known each other since we were children. Out of respect, couldn't you manage to get out of my life and leave me be?" There was no hint of banter or sarcasm in her voice. Ariadne was serious. Draco felt his mouth fall open a little and his heart fall into his ankles. The forever-tolerant Ariadne was finally fed up with him. It took fifteen years, but she was finally done.
"No, Ariadne. I can't." he found himself saying. Ariadne began a slew of curses but stopped short when Draco whispered, "I need to have you in my life." It was as if Draco pressed "mute" on the Slytherin girl's voice. She was speechless. A hot blush pooled in both of their faces.
"You…do?" she eventually asked. Draco stuttered and reddened deeply, standing up and making a beeline for the boys' dormitory. He left Ariadne as confused and shocked as ever.
XXX
After washing her puffy face an hour later, Ariadne changed out of the robes and into a large t-shirt. It used to be Hiro's—it was a Chudley Cannons t-shirt with a huge hole in the armpit. She wasn't sure what he bewitched it with, but the shirt forever smelled like him. She pulled the neckline over her nose, cried some more, and fell into a dreamless and fitful sleep. The morning sun came too soon for Ariadne's liking. It seemed as if she had just closed her eyes a few minutes ago. It was Saturday morning, which was a blessing, but it also meant Quidditch practice and multiple encounters with Draco.
I wonder if he really meant it…her mind wondered. Did Draco really need his childhood "rival" in his life? What force or mystery compelled the pompous, spoiled little brat to admit that he had feelings?
"You sound idiotic, Ari." she muttered. "He said he needed me, not that he has feelings. Get over yourself." She rolled onto her left side and saw Wyvern three beds down—still in her costume. She snored with her mouth half-open. Pansy Parkinson and her usual flock of vapid girls walked back in from the communal bathroom.
"Oh, look! If it isn't Miss Flash! Was it cold last night, Ariadne?" she sneered. Her brown corkscrew curls bounced as her face wrinkled into a mocking scowl. Ariadne felt her face contort into her fiercest glare.
"I don't know what you're talking about, you bitch, but you better shut your trap before I shut it for you." Ariadne stood in nothing but her t-shirt and her pink pygmy puff underwear, but she didn't give a damn. She was tired of the pug's bullshit.
"Oh, Ariadne. We mustn't get trashy now. No need to threaten me." She scoffed and giggled sweetly—a sound that was completely insincere. Ariadne shook her head and said, "Soon, you'll regret saying one word to me." She ended that note by scooping up her bathroom bag, giving Pansy a hard shove with her shoulder, and walking out of the dormitory. She still was without pants. She strode down into the common room and turned a sharp corner, winding down the spiral stairs to the girls' bathroom. Twenty or so pairs of widened eyes witnessed the affair.
"Did Ariadne just come down here…half-naked?" Theodore Nott breathed. A few people nodded their heads in disbelief.
XXX
Quidditch practice went terribly. No one was on their game that morning. Many were gossiping about Ariadne's nudity the night before and how amazing or shocking or weird it was. So the whole upper years saw the entire duel and Ariadne's de-robing. She wished the previous night had never happened. Draco avoided eye contact with his fellow Slytherin the entire time. He didn't insult her technique once, never ordered her around, never said a word. Ariadne wasn't sure how to feel. Should she be mad at Draco, because he wasn't man enough to speak to her after a life-altering confession like last night's? Or should she be relieved for a break from the usual dose of verbal abuse?
Ariadne lingered in the locker room, waiting for Draco (a first for Ariadne). But his padlock had been sealed and was nowhere to be found. He already left.
The Slytherin girl slid down the wall and curled up into a ball. She would rather have Draco insult her every day instead of him not speaking to her at all. She felt silly and full of shame. She shouldn't let a stupid wanker like Draco get into her head. But it was no use. Her mind was swimming with the thought of him.
The tears came hot and fast. With a scary shock she realized she was crying. Over Draco Malfoy. This was the boy who had tormented her for a majority of her life. Why was she so upset?
XXX
A sixth year Slytherin girl found herself walking towards the Quidditch pitch. She was always interested in trying out, but could never muster the courage to do so. But today was the day. The girl was tall, with an a-line hair cut colored a fiery red. In her left hand was her broom—a gently used Firebolt, and in her right was her wand, an eleven-inch willow with mermaid tears in the core. Her green eyes scanned the field but was discouraged when she realized the place was deserted.
"Damnit! I'm too late!" the Slytherin sighed. She walked toward the locker room to see if there were any stragglers from the last practice. As she approached the entrance, she heard muffled sobs inside.
"Hello?" she called as she pushed open the door. "Are you okay?" Ariadne's cries cut off instantly and she began to dry up.
"I'm sorry. I just heard you in here and wanted to make sure you were fine. I'm Jericho Hailstrum." Ariadne's slate eyes noticed the Slytherin crest on her robes and she relaxed slightly. She extended a shaking hand and introduced herself to the redhead.
"Ariadne Nocturne. Thank you for snapping me out of this funk." she rose awkwardly and grabbed her book bag. Jericho smiled and asked, "When's the next practice? I'd love to try out!" Ariadne bit her lip in thought and told her practice was next Tuesday.
"Perfect! Do you mind if I walk in with you? So I don't feel like a trespasser?" Jericho looked down in discomfort. Hopefully Ariadne, one of the best beaters on Slytherin's team, would agree. Ariadne forced a smile and complied.
"Sure! Practices on Tuesdays start at three. Don't be late." And the blonde exited.
XXX
The following Tuesday came and went. Jericho was mediocre at best, but she would be a good second string chaser. She had speed but no finesse. Either way, she got a uniform and that was all the optimistic Slytherin cared about. She joined Ariadne at meals more, always talking about Quidditch. Ariadne didn't mind the new company much, as she found herself unusually free at meal times (Draco's absences have kept her feeding hours quiet). So Jericho, Wyvern, and Ariadne prattled off about meaningless things, like the new nail lacquer down in Hogsmeade's cosmetic shop, or how atrocious classes were. Blaise passed by the three girls and slapped down a charms essay in front of Jericho.
"See that? Perfect marks. What'd you get on the essay, Hailstrum?" Jericho's face burned with anger—turning so red it was almost identical to her hair. "Shut your damn mouth, Blaise! You know I suck at charms! So what if you've got a perfect essay? I kicked your arse last week in DADA!"
"Mixed dueling classes don't even count. Sixth years are given an advantage anyway!" he retorted. These arguments between the academic rivals were usually how each meal was concluded. Their ill feelings traced back to their childhoods, when their families (much like Draco and Ariadne's) coincided with similar "interests". Ariadne and Wyvern were minding their own business until a pile of mashed potatoes struck them both in the face. The buttery spuds slid down their cheeks and fell into their laps, greasing every palpable surface. Blaise began running down the Great Hall like a madman. Wyvern rose to sprint but Ariadne pulled her back down.
"This one's mine!" she said. Ariadne leapt over a crouching first year and grabbed Blaise by the hem of his robe. The force generated by the pull didn't stop his stride, but it slowed him considerably.
"Do you realize what is in my hair?" she half-shrieked.
"Taters?" Blaise tried. Ariadne threw Blaise to the ground, stole the nearest pudding from the Hufflepuff table, and overturned the bowl onto Blaise's face. That would teach him to throw fat-laden foods at her.
She was about to begin gloating when she saw them. Draco and Pansy entered the Great Hall, hand in hand. He made eye contact with Ariadne, smirked ever so slightly, and planted a soft kiss on Pansy's cheek.
She wished she had saved the pudding for a certain blond seventh year.
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